


Yesterday You Were Here

by CloudDreamer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudDreamer/pseuds/CloudDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers up until ep. 309 of the 100. </p><p>Octavia has changed. </p><p>Over the months since she came to Earth, she suffered from uncountable losses and victories. She's loved and she's watched her love die. She's unmistakably different. </p><p>But we're not there yet. We're months before that, soon after landing on Earth, and nobody understands the danger that they are in. When the changed Octavia returns in a freak accident, she finds that she might have a way to keep her escape her losses and keep her love alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Octavia couldn't think.

She could barely breathe.

Her heart was racing. She could hear it-- she could hear her own heart beating. 

She replayed the image, again and again. All she could see was Lincoln. A thousand disjointed images swam in front of her eyes. 

She couldn't even see in front of her eyes.

 _Be a warrior,_ Indra would chide her. 

But she couldn't be a warrior. Not when the reason she fought was gone. His body, bleeding out. Executed by Pike. 

Pike.

Octavia's fists curled, tight. Red flared in the corner of her vision and Lincoln vanished, replaced by the smug bastard's face.

She really wanted to punch it.

No, she wanted more than to punch his face. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to feel her hands around his throat, feeling the life drain out beneath her fingers.

"Octavia?" Bellamy asked.

"What is it?" she said, hissing. She turned to look at her brother, her body tensing. It was if she was seeking out for someone to release her rage on, if not Pike.

Lincoln. Lincoln was dead. She couldn't even wrap her mind around that. She couldn't even wrap her mind around the fact that he wouldn't ever touch her, kiss her, or pull her close ever again.

When she tried to envision their happy times together, all she saw was blood pooling around him. 

"I'm sorry about Lincoln." 

"Bellamy, shut up," she said. How dare he. How dare he say he was sorry? Like that meant anything to her, now.

Sorry couldn't bring him back and sorry couldn't do anything. 

Lincoln was still dead-- dead! He could apologize until he turned blue, but Lincoln would still be dead. His body would always be lifeless, and limp. He would always collapse onto the ground in a pool of blood. 

Dead is a funny word, isn't it? 

Dead. Dead. Dead. You could repeat it again and again, and it's so small. It doesn't encompass the grief that punches you in a gut. Again and again. Dead. 

He's always going to be dead.

In this world and any other world, he'd die and die.

If only she could do anything to save him.

"Sorry doesn't bring Lincoln back," she said. "Bellamy, you don't talk to me. You're fine slaughtering three hundred of my people-- better than fine! They're Lincoln's siblings!"

Current tense, she noted, hazily.

"What do you want me to say?" Bellamy asked.

Octavia rubbed her eyes, trying to keep her tears under control. She couldn't control it. She had to, but she wasn't. Indra would scold her for her weakness, but Indra wasn't here. Indra was wounded, because of Bellamy. Her brother. 

"Leave me alone," Octavia said, opening her eyes. She didn't know what to do. She was surrounded on all sides-- eyes staring into her.

Attacked.

So all she could do is run. 

Her breath was ragged. Her vision was shaking. Her smell and taste were overwhelmed by the crimson tang of blood. Her touch was filled with just pain. 

The forest flew by. Someone screamed after her, wanting her back, but she couldn't go back. She could never go back. 

"Octavia!" 

No. 

Not now, not so soon. Lincoln would want her to go back to make peace, to make up with her brother.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Lincoln was dead. She didn't have to be peaceful anymore, she had to--

She felt her body twist and turn, sprinting forward as if she had somewhere to go and to run. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She had nowhere to go. She’d never had somewhere to go. For a while, she’d found a home in Lincoln and their shared outcast status but now… 

The forest flew by, one branch after another. She was flying. As if she could run far enough away to escape cruel reality where Lincoln was gone. She still didn’t understand how he could just die. Maybe if she tried to deny it, it would just go away and Lincoln, her Lincoln, would come back. 

She fled. 

One foot in front of another. 

Just live day to day and don’t think about Lincoln. She couldn’t think about the smile and couldn’t think about those beautiful eyes. She couldn’t imagine herself tracing those tattoos, burned into that skin that looked rough but was soft. 

She let out an anguished cry of grief, between jagged breaths and lost tears on the wind. 

Maybe she could outrun the pain. If she could do anything to change what had happened, she would and --

Slam.

A branch hit her face and pain stung her forehead. She'd ran right into it and then was thrown forward, onto the ground and down. The wind was knocked out of her and she breathed out. She was falling into a deep hole. 

She splashed into some kind of liquid in an underground cavern, inky water swirling around her. Was it water? It had a weird tint. She tried to swim for the surface, but the liquid had a strange consistency that was dragging her down. 

The further she fell, the harder it was to move her body. 

A pale green light shone around her and she was in a light emerald pool. She couldn't tell which way was up. She found herself swimming the wrong way, with no bottom and her vision was changing. She saw a light and swam for it, moving quickly. It was as if her body had vanished and then reformed beneath her. 

But the world she tumbled out into wasn't the surface of the green pool.


	2. Chapter 2

“Octavia, what the hell are you doing?” Clarke’s voice came through first. 

The sky was blue. Birds were... chirping? There was a river around her. People-- was that Jasper? Old Jasper, before he saw the people of Mount Weather die and sort of… well, she wasn’t quite sure what had happened to Jasper, but it wasn’t happy, stood before her. He didn’t look like he was just before Mount Weather but before anything, really. He still had his goggles. And clean Clarke? 

Clarke. She wasn’t just clean -- her hair was in a ponytail and it was shorter than she remembered. She looked so different. Not just her physical attributes, but also everything about her. And what the hell was she wearing? 

Monty was there too, still the nerdy cute boy he used to be. She shook her head in confusion when she turned to the last figure with her. 

What was going on?

That looked like… but it couldn’t be… Finn? Dead Finn. Finn, who killed eighteen innocent Trikru. How was he here? 

She felt her soft hair brush over her shoulder. She reached for her hair and examined it. It was light and not in heavy braids.

Where was she? The weather had been dark and stormy until she'd fallen and why was Jasper like that? He looked surprised and was gawking at her. 

Why was he, again?

And why was Clarke here? She was back at Polis, wasn’t she? Finn was dead too. And why, why, why? Everything was so confusing and above all, Lincoln's death weighing heavy on her mind. 

"Lincoln," she said, breathing out. 

"Octavia, who's Lincoln?" Finn asked. His voice wasn’t the same as she remembered, less angry and arrogant.

Then what Clarke said sunk in. She wanted to scream and shake her. The precious Wanheda, asking her who Lincoln was. Wait-- how didn't Clarke know who Lincoln was? Jasper? She could've fallen unconscious and woken up, but why was she standing up? And her hair?

She tried to explain it away, but the growth didn't match up. It was too short and not braided in the Trikru way. 

"Where am I?" she demanded, spinning around. It reminded her of the first day, but that wasn't possible. And what was she wearing?

She looked down. Why had she stripped to her underclothes? Like that day? "Clarke, where am I? Is this a joke? Why did you bring me here? How did you get here?"

Then she saw the wristband on Clarke's arm. It looked even more like the first day, again. How had she came here? 

"Octavia, calm down. Are you alright?" Clarke asked. Clarke didn't have the edge in the voice she'd gotten ever since she'd gone hermit in the woods. She ran forward, reaching to grab Octavia, who jerked her hand away. Clarke stumbled and almost got knocked into the water. 

Then she noticed the wristbands. On Clarke’s hand and on her own.

"Where's Arkadia?" Octavia asked, ignoring their confusion. "What happened and Jasper, why do you look like that?"

"Octavia," Clarke began. "What are you talking about? Arkadia-- Arkadia station? It's still in space, with the Ark." 

Octavia opened her mouth, shocked. Arkadia, with the Ark? Everything seemed to match up that she was back on day one, but that made no sense. Was she hallucinating? Had the stress finally cracked her mind? She didn’t feel very crazy, but she figured nobody could tell if they were crazy. 

"How are you alive, Finn? Clarke killed you!" Octavia exclaimed. Clarke looked at Finn, in a sort of 'what is she talking about' look. 

"Is she crazy?" Finn asked at the same time Clarke said, "What is she talking about?" 

Clarke blinked. "Dementia isn't a symptom of radiation poisoning. And I’d never kill you."

"I'm not crazy!" Octavia said and then realized how crazy that sounded. "What... Where am I?" If she was crazy, would her hallucinations speculate if she was crazy? That made no sense. Actually, none of this made any sense. 

"We were going to check out Mount Weather for the supplies..." Clarke began. Memories of the radiation of Level 4 surfaced. Monty was standing there too. 

“Until you started taking off your clothes,” Jasper said, nudging Monty who punched him in the arm. Octavia reached for her face; her fingers came back free from warpaint smudges.

"What?" Octavia asked, sputtering. Everything fit together-- Finn, Jasper, Arkadia on the Ark, going to Mount Weather, her clothes and hair, and... but how? How could she be here? She tried to think back to what happened on that first day. 

_“Rescue me next, spaceman,”_

That popped into her head. Something about Finn breaking up a fight. 

"Octavia, you need to calm down," Clarke said. She said to the others, "the stress might've gotten to her."

" _When_ am I?" Octavia asked. 

"We just got to Earth earlier. I'm not sure what you're talking about,"

"Don't tell her anything-- it might shatter her fragile grip on reality," Clarke said. 

If this wasn’t a hallucination, then what was it? If she’d been drugged or something, it wouldn’t feel real. It would have weird bits like floating heads and monsters out of nowhere. It wouldn’t match up practically perfectly with what she remembered of months ago. 

She didn’t really remember a lot of what happened back then. Her memories were almost cramped with the amount of action that happened. 

_“We’re back, bitches!”_

First girl on earth in a hundred years. 

How wrong were they. She was overwhelmed by a wave of-- nostalgia? For what? Her innocence? It wasn’t like old Octavia had been exactly a baby, but she didn’t exactly understand just how dangerous the situation was. How dark it could get so easily. 

“I’m-- I remember this,” Octavia said. This same situation. 

“We’ve got to get to Mount Weather,” Clarke said. “Someone has to take Octavia back to the dropship,” 

“Bellamy will flip if we bring her back like this,” Monty said. She remembered someone putting a flower in her hair, but then Monty explained what it was, some kind of poison? 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take to get those supplies, we’ll starve otherwise,” Clarke ordered. Octavia walked off of the rock and headed towards where they were standing. She tried to figure out what had happened. She’d fallen into some kind of pool and all of a sudden she was here? 

_Jasper getting stabbed in the heart with a Trikru spear._

If this was really the past, then wouldn’t Jasper try to cross the river with a vine and get stabbed for trespassing? Wait, if this really was the past? Had she somehow traveled back in time to before the whole chain of events that lead to the death of Lincoln? 

“I think I--” Octavia said, stumbling down the rock on purpose. She collapsed onto the rock as if she had passed out. She needed a way to observe for a bit and figure out what happened. She couldn’t do that if they thought she was crazy -- perhaps she could fake having had a mental breakdown until she understood better? 

“I’ll take her back,” Jasper offered. “Princess, go ahead.”

Octavia realized-- if this was the past, then whoever crossed the river would get attacked. She needed to bring all of them back. So she had to make a scene so big that the Trikru would reveal themselves or keep anyone from crossing the river. 

History repeats itself, Octavia wondered, but not quite this way. 

Octavia started screaming at the top of her lungs and squirming. She lunged for Clarke to knock her over, trying to cause a loud mess. 

“Octavia!” Clarke said, scampering backwards. Suddenly, someone on the other side of the river make a noise in the bushes. A reveal. Octavia shrieked and pointed at it. She looked around and then she saw the perfect excuse for her apparent mental breakdown: Jobi Nuts. 

She grabbed a handful and shoved them in her mouth as they were distracted by the hidden Trikru warrior. 

“Octavia’s right to run!” Monty said and the rest of them followed, sprinting after her. Someone grabbed Octavia’s hand and shoved it over their shoulder, keeping her up as she started to see faces around her. She breathed in and out through her nose, trying not to gasp and accidentally let the Jobi Nuts fall out of her mouth, as she shoved more nuts in her pocket.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
CLARKE’S POV

“They're not chasing us anymore," Clarke said to the others as they huffed and heaved their way through the forest. She slowed and then stumbled forward. She braced herself, hands resting on her knees, trying to keep herself on her feet. Clarke had thought she was in shape, once. Then she went to the ground and it was all so different. The texture on the ground made her walk twice as far as she would on the Ark. 

"Ugh," Jasper wheezed, slugging to a stop, barely keeping Octava upright. Octavia had been fighting him the whole way back, shouting at them about how they had to go back to move the river as a sacrifice to the holy spork and how the cutlery was enchanted. Jasper had made passing comments about hitting her in the head to knock her out, but Clarke wouldn’t let him. 

Octavia’s arm slipped off Jasper’s shoulders as she dropped to her knees and pointed at something in the sky. Clarke checked it out, but there was nothing there; she must have spotted an animal rustling in a tree, perhaps. Clarke turned to Monty as he complained, "Is there anything around here that will knock her out for a few hours that won't give her brain damage!"

"A fork, a fork! No, it's a spork! The holy grail of forks and spoons and knives!" Octavia gasped, swaying on her knees.

"Nope,"Clarke said, sighing. “I guess we’ll just have to wait it out. Plus, we’re almost to the dropship anyway,” Clarke turned and walked over to Octavia. “Octavia--” 

“I am not Octavia, I am the High Priestess Octagon of the Church of Spork.” Octavia unsteadily got to her feet and peered at Clarke.

 

“Okay,” Clarke said, disgruntled that she had to play along with whatever hallucination that Octavia cooked up. “High Priestess Octagon, the spork would greatly appreciate your presence at Temple.” 

“But the spork is here!” 

“No, High Priestess Octagon, the spork requires your presence elsewhere.” 

Octavia beamed and exclaimed, “Are you the holy messenger? You are! Salad fork! I am glad of your presence, Salad fork.” Monty looked at Clarke and gave her a sort of, ‘what can you do?’ shrug. Clarke reached for a stick off of the ground and hoisted it into the air. 

“This is the stick of Salad fork! Any priestesses who wish to speak must hold the stick of Salad fork,” Clarke declared as they were almost to the drop ship. “If she is not holding the stick, she must remain silent and walk peacefully behind the holder of the stick if she does not wish to incur the wrath of the spork.” 

‘Octagon’ bowed deeply and followed the instructions without fault for the remainder of the trip back.

“Octavia?” Bellamy asked as they approached the gathering of delinquents. “What’s wrong with her?”

Octavia bowed deeply in Clarke’s direction and beamed widely. She barely seemed to notice anyone, her gaze fixed on the drop ship at the moment.

“She - I don’t even know, Bellamy,” admitted Clarke. She looked closer at Octavia and saw what looked like a green pasty seed stuck to her chin. Suspicion bloomed in Clarke’s mind. “Hey, help me check her pockets.”

Sure enough, when Clarke plunged her hand into Octavia’s jacket pocket, she felt some seeds or nuts; she grabbed a handful and pulled her hand out to look at them.

Octavia frowned and wagged her finger. “Holy Messengers should not mistreat the High Priestess!”

Clarke waggled the stick in Octavia’s face. “I’ve still got the Salad Fork Stick, Octagon.”

Octavia clamped her jaw shut again, but began peering intently around at all the people and the trees, a slight grin tugging at her lips.

Clarke showed the handful of nuts or seeds to the others and said, “She probably ate some of these not realizing they’d make her hallucinate. It explains why she got weird at the river.”

Jasper and Monty grinned at each other. “Awesome!” they exclaimed.

Clarke frowned. “This isn’t funny, you guys! What if we’d all been eating these?”

Octavia’s gaze fixed on Bellamy, seeming to take him in fully for the first time under the influence of the - whatever it was; her face hardened and she backed up a step. “No! You! The… the--” she couldn’t speak; her nostrils flared as her breaths rasped harshly in Clarke’s ears.

“What? What is it, O?” Bellamy asked as he stepped forward, reaching for his sister. Octavia’s eyes widened and she stumbled backwards, colliding into Jasper and sending the two of them sprawling. Clarke dropped the stick, shoved the nuts (seeds?) into her jacket pocket, and reached to help Octavia to her feet. “Let’s get her in the drop ship. _Now.”_

“Nathan!” Bellamy shouted, “Murphy!” 

Two boys headed over. “Help me get Octavia into the drop ship!” They started for her, but Octavia fought back, wildly and more powerful than Clarke thought Octavia could. 

“You killed him--” Octavia said. “You killed him when you killed all of them!” 

Her eyes stared into Bellamy, cold and strangely aware for her drugged status. Clarke tried to orient her towards the drop ship. Bellamy stepped backwards, hands in the air. He seemed confused and unaware of what Octavia was talking about. 

“The temple is this way,” Clarke said. “The spork wishes you to go this way.” 

“I’m not -- I-- not real.” Octavia stumbled forward and the two boys helped lift her up. Murphy gave Clarke a flat look, in a sort of ‘you owe me for this’ way. 

 

“Octavia, I always wanted to protect you…” Bellamy said, voice drifting off. He sounded lonely for the first time since he got to the ground. Octavia was carried off by Nathan and Murphy, with occasional screams and bursts of squirming. 

“We have to get in contact with the Ark,” Clarke said. “I hope whatever she ate isn’t addicting, because if so, we’ve got a problem.” 

 

“The Ark?” Bellamy said, eyes opening wide. “Why?” 

 

“If it’s not addictive, it might be poisonous, whatever she ate, and Monty doesn’t know enough about the ground’s plants.” At Bellamy’s pursed lips and squint, Clarke verbally prodded him. “What is it, Bellamy?” 

 

“I-- the Ark _can’t_ follow us down here.” 

“Why?” Clarke snapped as they watched Octavia be brought inside of the dropship. “Without communication with the Ark, we’ll be dead before winter. They have the tech you know we need.” 

“We can survive by ourselves,” Bellamy said with a stubborn set to his expression.

“Octavia might not,” Clarke said. She was wondering whether or not to tell Bellamy about the flaw in the Ark. She’d already told some of them on the trip to the river. “And, Bellamy?” 

“Yeah?” Bellamy asked. “You’re a doctor, you’ll fix her, right? I did something, Clarke - they won’t exactly thank me for it when they get down. I think they might kill me for it.”

“They said all of our crimes will be pardoned. The Ark has to get to the ground. It’s not a matter of us surviving.” Bellamy looked at Clarke, who was leaning against a tree. She rolled the nuts in between her fingers. “The Ark is dying, Bellamy. In three months, they’ll be out of air and they might end up killing even more people very shortly to give them extra time. If a hundred of us gave them a month, three hundred will give them three months more!”

Bellamy looked like someone had punched him in the gut. 

““Whatever you did, perhaps we can argue for amnesty,” Clarke said. “When we get into communication. One hundred of us? Someone’s gonna be able to, I don’t know. Reverse engineer the bracelets, perhaps.” 

“I-- they sent us down here to _die_ , Clarke.” Clarke shook her head and looked at Bellamy. 

“No, Bellamy. They sent us here to live.” That made Bellamy thoughtful. He scratched his chin and looked up to the sky, almost trying to spot the Ark. “Look -- if not for the death sentences for criminals, we’d all be dead from a lack of air anyway.” 

“I guess,” Bellamy said. “Princess.” He looked around and said in a lower voice, “But you don’t tell anyone else about this. It’ll just make them all panic.” Clarke nodded; it was one thing to be part of a group given a sort of reprieve, and another to be the fortunate remnant not whittled off to make room for what was left of the Ark.

“I won’t tell anyone more than I have to, Bellamy.” Clarke wasn’t exactly promising not to tell anyone and Bellamy would probably have to get Octavia, Monty, Finn, and Jasper to promise as well. “I’m not the only one who knows -- I told the people who went to the river with me as well.” 

“I’ll deal with it.” 

\--

“Abby!” someone said, making Abby jump. She was on edge ever since she’d broken the law saving Jaha. She knew that is was only a matter of time before Kane, as Chancellor pro tempore, would come to arrest her. 

“What is it?” Abby said, rushing over to where one of the people was observing the data of the one hundred. 

“Look at this-- a group of their vitals spiked at around the same time, starting with Octavia Blake.” Abby remembered her, the girl who hid beneath the floorboards. She had been there for the death of the girl’s mother. The girl’s heart rate was still somewhat elevated.

Abby checked Clarke’s vitals, instinctively -- also spiked, but not quite as much as Octavia’s but was also elevated. Had something happened on the ground that had made them either excited or scared? 

“Can you show me their vitals at the moment they spiked?” Abby asked. 

The technician clicked a few buttons on their computer and Octavia’s vitals lowered. “This is weird. I’m going through moment by moment and look at this--” One moment, Octavia’s vitals were at normal levels. Then, they’d spiked in less than a second. A few moments later, the spacewalker Finn, Clarke, Monty, and Jasper. Not as much, but their heart rates had definitely shot up.

“Weird,” Abby said. 

“Probably some sort of event on the ground startled Octavia.” 

 

“That quickly?” Abby asked. “It seems unlikely.” 

“Perhaps there is some form of wildlife there that would startle them rather quickly, which Octavia noticed first? We know from Earth Skills there could be animals that survived the war - feral cats and dogs most likely.” 

“It seems to have startled some others as well -- look,” another woman said. Abby noted a rise in vitals seemed to be spreading across the board. 

“Wait - if that really was a reaction to wildlife,” Abby blurted. “That would mean…” 

“We could survive there,” she said. “We could. Your daughter is going to survive, Abby. _My_ daughter is going to survive.” 

“Still,” Abby said, forcing caution on herself as she continued, “It could be anything. We won’t really know.” To the technician, she said, “Go back half an hour. Check each one of these kids’ vitals. See if we can’t figure out what they might be doing.”

“They could have run into a natural barrier-- a falling tree or suddenly come up to a cliff,” noted Jackson, anticipation warring with skepticism on his features.

“Someone page Kane; he needs to know we have possible proof of life, even if we later rule it out,” ordered Abby.

Jackson nodded. “I’ll do it.” He dashed to an intercom set and grabbed up the telephone handset.

In the meantime, Abby went to the technician’s console. “Anything so far?” she wondered.

“Most of them have heart rates that are are within norms for teenagers doing physical activity. I’m trying to see if we can isolate social groupings by whose vitals are approximately similar, as well.”

“Good idea,” Abby said with an approving nod. “If another group of kids all have the same reaction we can guess they either met with another animal or faced another dangerous part of the terrain.”

Please, she thought, _let it be wildlife. Clarke will keep them alive until we can get down there._

Unfortunately, Marcus Kane’s arrival with Shumway and another security guard portended a much less pleasant argument than the one she expected to have.

“Abigail Griffin,” Kane began, “I have been informed you have exceeded the allotted number of blood units for Thelonious Jaha. As you know, overuse of any rationed material is a capital offense.”

 _What a wonderful day,_ she thought sardonically. _To get floated as I discover my daughter might have saved us all._

She looked up. 

Clarke could have a chance of survival. That meant they all had a chance of survival. That meant… there might be life on the ground. She couldn’t just hang around the Ark waiting to die.

“I did?” Abby stared evenly at Kane, hoping she might be able to bluff her way past his accusation.

Kane crossed his arms. “Abby, you know we inventory Medical on a routine basis. The blood units were counted: you went over the limit.”

“Maybe there was a glitch in the system -- let me go check it,” Abby said and headed out towards the door. The guards blocked her path. “What?” 

“You think we’re going to let you go look at the system? You’ll just delete or change the computer records,” said Kane with the air of one resigned to stating the completely obvious.

“Kane, you know me. Why would I do that?” Abby asked, trying to avoid looking guilty and ending up looking shifty as hell; Kane was too sharp to miss her slight agitation she was trying to hide by keeping her hands at her sides. 

“She’s right, Kane,” a technician mumbled. “Maybe the computer glitched.”

“What did you say?” Kane barked at him. 

“Why don’t we wait until Chancellor Jaha wakes up?” Jackson asked Kane, glancing between his boss and the Ark’s acting leader.

Kane’s nostrils flared.

Abby, grateful, smiled at the technician and Jackson. Then, attempting an innocent tone, Abby added, “Marcus, we may have had our differences, but would you really prefer it if Thelonious died?”

“The rules are there for a reason, Abby,” replied Kane doggedly. “Thelonious is a good man, but even his well-being can’t come before the survival of the Ark.”

Abby pointed at Kane. “That’s just it, Marcus!” She turned around, waving her hand at the status monitors for the Hundred. “We’ve been watching their vital signs and the reactions of some of the kids is consistent with them possibly running across wildlife! Wildlife means food and habitability! The Ark is no longer our only hope.”


End file.
